His Voice, His Vice
by xXSakuraPhantom
Summary: Strange things are happening at the Opera Populaire, and Inspector Javert is sent to investigate. But nothing is as it seems as he is drawn into the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera. Javerik. Rating may change; look inside for details.


**Hello, everyone! Here is my second Phantom/Les Mis crossover. I'm very excited, because this is a pairing that I've been musing over for the longest time, and I'm finally writing a story to go along with it. :) I guess I just like to put both Erik and Javert through the most awkward situations. Call me crazy. I dunno.**

**Pairing: Javerik (Javert x Erik), hints at Erik x Christine, and possibly Javert x Mme. Giry and Raoul x Meg?**

**Semi-AU, time periods shifted so the timelines match up. As for the rating, there is (obviously) slash, some implied. There might be some smut, but I'll warn you ahead of time. Some violence, and language. And Raoul's bad haircut, as well.**

**If you need anything, get a shout. Enjoy! :D**

Chapter One

Javert had heard stories about the old Paris Opera. Stories about catacombs beneath the building that contained the bones of thousands of people. Stories about dressing rooms haunted by previous inhabitants, who could sometimes be heard singing late at night. He dismissed all of these as utter nonsense. Inventions made as a result of the overactive imaginations of the dozens of childish, impressionable ballet girls.  
And yet there was one story that was frighteningly true, although Javert supposed parts of it had been greatly exaggerated.  
The story of the Phantom of the Opera.  
Javert, despite his upraising as a gypsy, did not put much stock into tales of ghosts or phantoms. He firmly believed that when the body ceased to function, one's immortal soul was destined for either heaven or hell. There was no in between.  
Therefore, when the inspector had first heard the tale, he had dismissed it as twaddle. However, it seemed that there was more to this so-called "phantom" than what he had previously been told (which were mostly tales of strange noises, disappearing figures, and disembodied voices, all of which were stupid). Recently the Opera Populaire had come under new management, purchased by two men named Andre and Firmin, who were considered moguls in the scrap metal business.  
They had requested that the Police de Paris come and look into the matter, especially when they learned that the alleged "phantom" demanded that the best seat in the grand tier be empty for "his use," or that he was to be paid a salary of twenty thousand francs every month. Andre and Firmin were furious; they were being extorted by something that didn't even exist. And despite the fact that Javert did not particularly care for these men (they were dressed in expensive furs in July, for god's sake), he did agree with them. He smelled a rat. It was obvious that someone at the opera house was using old theatre superstitions for their own gain.  
And so, nearly a full week after Javert had received the initial report, he had studied up enough to feel ready to go and investigate the goings-on at the opera house.  
It was a strange feeling, he had to admit, when his cab pulled up to the opera. He felt small and unimportant compared to the great building. It was almost as if the very walls held themselves with a sort of pride, confident in their own beauty. The doors opened with the faintest creak, and Javert was immediately greeted with the rich, lavish interior, all shades of gold and red, swirling and mingling elegantly.  
He swept his hat off of his head, and glanced about. The foyer appeared to be empty, which meant that he would have to poke about and see if he could find someone to speak to. How tedious, he thought as he took several steps into the room. It was truly breathtaking.  
The silence was suddenly broken when Javert heard voices coming from somewhere beyond the foyer. It sounded like singing. Of course, there must have been rehearsals going on. The inspector followed the voice, and found himself walking through the foyer to the theatre.  
The sounds of his footsteps were muffled by the plush carpet under his feet, and as Javert made his way into the amphitheatre that lay before the stage, he could not help but feel as if he were intruding on something.  
Nevertheless, he did not wish to interrupt the rehearsals that were going on, so the inspector took a seat near the back and watched. The music was quite good, the costumes were incredibly tacky, and all in all, it was everything Javert had expected an opera to be. Mildly entertaining, but lacking in substance. He was just happy he did not need to pay to be in attendance.  
At the moment, the ballet was performing, and Javert had to admit that the girls looked quite charming. The show, if he could remember correctly, was called Il Muto, and was a somewhat ludicrous tale concerning a young woman falling in love with a mute boy who disguises himself as a maid in order to escape the wrath of the woman's husband. Javert found the whole idea ridiculous, but the show was supposedly a great hit and was adored by the public.  
The mannerisms and interests of the general population confused him greatly.  
Suddenly, however, there was a great commotion onstage. The woman playing as the Countess was yelling at the poor girl playing the mute, and the director was standing between the two of them, obviously trying to settle the leading lady down, but to no avail.  
"La Carlotta, please!" he cried. "She did not mean anything by it! You didn't mean anything by it, right Miss Daae?"  
The poor girl nodded, eyes wide. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to step on your dress."  
Javert rolled his eyes. He had read about La Carlotta in the case file. She was described as a famous, talented, self-absorbed woman who had been the leading soprano for several seasons. Obviously she lived up to her reputation as a drama queen.  
Eventually, though, it seemed she was calmed down enough for the rehearsal to continue. That is, until she spotted Javert sitting near the back of the theatre.  
"And who are you? Sitting there and trying to catch a performance for free, are you?" she snapped.  
Although Javert supposed that such displays were enough to intimidate the other performers and the managers, he himself found her utterly ridiculous.  
"I am sorry, madam," he said coolly, standing up and approaching the stage. "I have come seeking Messieurs Andre and Firmin, but I did not wish to interrupt your rehearsals."  
"That is all well and good," Carlotta retorted, "but you did not answer my question. Who are you?!"  
"I am Inspector Javert. I am here because Messieurs Andre and Firmin wished to have the Police de Paris look into your so-called Phantom issue," Javert struggled to keep his tone businesslike. He really despised this woman. "You have no need to worry, madam. I do not seek to try and catch a performance for free. I am just here to do my job."  
Some of the other cast members were murmuring to one another, eyes wide. Even Carlotta seemed to have deflated a little. Javert stood there awkwardly for several long moments before someone spoke.  
"You are here to investigate the Opera Ghost, then?"  
Javert turned to find a middle-aged woman, probably around the same age as himself, standing before him. She had eyes like a hawk, sharp and inquisitive, and she seemed strong and stubborn at the same time.  
"Yes, I am," he replied, giving her a small nod.  
"You'd best be careful, then," the woman said, her voice dark and her face darker. "We would not want another…accident."  
Javert felt his face reforming into a frown. What did she mean, accident?  
"You aren't trying to scare the poor inspector away, are you, Madame Giry?"  
Javert turned once more to see the manages, Andre and Firmin, walking towards them, strained smiles plastered on their faces. He bowed stiffly.  
"No, not at all, messieurs," Madame Giry said coolly. "I just wished to warn him, is all."  
Andre gave her a look. "That is enough, Madame," he said coolly. "He just got here. We don't need to scare him away."  
The woman nodded and gave Javert a look that was either pity or loathing. He could not quite tell which.  
"Now then, inspector," said Firmin, "if you would accompany us, we will discuss any questions you may have before you get to work."  
"Of course, monsieur," Javert said.  
As he left the theatre, just before the rehearsals resumed and Carlotta's voice nearly drowned out the music, Javert could have sworn he heard, whispered softly in his ear:  
"Welcome to my opera house, Inspector Javert."


End file.
